


Doppelganger

by CarrKicksDoor



Series: Wars in Peacetime [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: New Republic Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: X-wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-15
Updated: 2012-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-31 06:10:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarrKicksDoor/pseuds/CarrKicksDoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There have been two Hobbie Klivians in the universe. Most people have only known one. One woman knew another. And now, the universe is going to know the consequences of angering the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doppelganger

**Author's Note:**

> Set directly before _The Black Fleet Crisis_

[Sometime before the Battle of Yavin]  
  
Rand Ecliptic  
  
 _“Derek?” the voice said softly. “Derek? Are you there?”  
  
“Hang on,” he said. Biggs had, with a grin, agreed to play sabaac late into the evening. Despite being captain and executive officer of the _ Ecliptic _’s small fighter contingent, he and Biggs still had to share quarters. Shoving a dirty sock underneath Darklighter’s bunk, he opened the door.  
  
Jeni hurried in, shutting the door behind her. Already disliked by the ship’s executive officer simply for being a woman in the Imperial service, if she was caught sneaking into Lieutenant Klivian’s quarters, she’d be drummed out of the service faster than she could say “not guilty” at her court martial.  
  
But if she got caught, she couldn’t participate in their mutiny and join the Rebellion with the rest of them.  
  
At the moment, though, she was here, in his quarters, safe, and she was in his arms. “Jeni,” he said, barely able to breath after kissing her.  
  
She buried her face into his chest and he put his hand on her head, brushing his fingers across glossy dark strands of hair. He could hear her breath heavily against him. “Not much longer,” she said.  
  
He nodded, leading her across the room to the only real suitable seating in his quarters. Sitting down on the bunk, he spoke. “No, not much longer, thank the Force.”  
  
“Thank the Force indeed,” Jeni said. The small defiance in mentioning the Force satisfied them for the moment. “I can’t wait to be shed of this—_ farce _.”  
  
He turned her to face him, pulling her hair out of its severe bun. His mouth descended upon hers, met by an equal ferocity.  
  
He pulled away for a moment, staring down at her. “What’s wrong?” she asked.  
  
Derek Klivian shook his head. “Nothing. Everything’s right.” He ran his hand along the side of her face. “I swear to you—you are the only woman I will ever love.”_  
  
***  
  
[Coruscant. Now]  
  
“Hobbie.” The voice over his shoulder was full of fun and mischief. Sitting in the squadron pilot lounge, Hobbie considered ignoring the voice, but he knew that attempting to do so would only make things worse. Sighing, he marked his place on the datapad. “What, Wes?”  
  
A bottle of Whyren’s Reserve dangled over his shoulder. “Corran can’t be here for the bachelor party next week, so he brought me this last night.”  
  
“He’s going to be back in time for the wedding, isn’t he?” Hobbie said, taking the bottle and examining the label.  
  
“He said he was,” Janson said, leaning against the back of the sofa. “He’s off doing some sort of Jedi thing. Besides, he better be, or I’ll have to find another groomsman.”  
  
“So we’re celebrating early?” Hobbie asked.  
  
“Yeah,” Janson said. “Jedi always make a party too dull.” He laughed a Hobbie’s look of irritated disapproval. “No, I’m trying to get rid of it before Inyri sees it and tries to make ryshcate again.”  
  
Hobbie winced, setting down his datapad. Inyri had attempted ryshcate for the engagement party. The result had been an over baked bar that tasted so strongly of Corellian whiskey, Hobbie had taken one bite and found a way to dispose of the rest. Janson, being the good fiancé, had choked down three and needed no lum the rest of the evening. Nawara had estimated the ryshcate contained the whole bottle.  
  
“Hey, is that the new Jordan Rank novel?” Janson asked as Hobbie rose.  
  
Hobbie glanced back at his datapad. “Yeah. You can have it when I’m done. It’s pretty good so far. Suspenseful. Let’s open up this bottle.”  
  
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Janson said with a grin. He disappeared behind the bar and two glasses clunked on the tabletop. Hobbie moved to open the bottle when his comlink began to buzz in his pocket.  
  
Sighing, he answered it. “Klivian.”  
  
“Lieutenant Shore from Communications, Major. I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but you have a priority one message from Semsara, real time.”  
  
“Semsara?” Hobbie asked, a crease appearing in his forehead. “I don’t know anyone on Semsara.”  
  
“The message was quite specific. It seems to be a member of the local law enforcement,” Shore said.  
  
“Put him through down here,” Hobbie said, brushing his hands on his pants. The advantage of being at Rogue Squadron headquarters on Coruscant was the fact that the lounge was outfitted better than those onboard ships. He sat down at the comm unit in the corner.  
  
“Major Klivian,” the man said from the other end of the line, “I’m Lieutenant Duggan of the Semsara Public Safety Force. Major, I need to ask you a few questions.”  
  
Frowning, Hobbie nodded. “Go ahead.” Janson wandered over, curiosity written on his features as he listened.  
  
“Major, do you know a Jeni Rutard?” Duggan asked.  
  
Hobbie paused before answering, the name returning to him with an unforgotten familiarity. “Yes. Is something wrong? Is she in trouble?”  
  
The concern in his voice wasn’t very well hidden. Duggan’s eyebrows knit together. “I’m sorry, Major, but she’s dead.”  
  
The four-letter word held more power than most of the curse words in Hobbie’s vast repertoire. Stunned, he fell back against the chair. “Dead?” he said weakly, his expression too surprised to be sorrowful.  
  
“Yes, sir. We found her in her apartment. You were listed as her emergency contact. Major, had you had any contact with her in the last few months that would have indicated she might have been suicidal?”  
  
“Suicidal?” Hobbie said. “Jeni would never be suicidal. Ever, Lieutenant.”  
  
“But when was the last time you spoke to her?” Duggan asked patiently.  
  
Hobbie ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe four years ago? We—we didn’t talk often. Usually it was just to let one another know where we were. I didn’t know she was on Semsara.”  
  
Duggan nodded. “Major, as her emergency contact, I need for you to come to Semsara to officially identify the body and to take custody of it.”  
  
“Yeah,” Hobbie said. “It shouldn’t be a problem. Yeah. I’ll have to talk to my commanding officer.” The words spilled from his mouth without ever truly being registered by his brain.  
  
“I’m truly sorry for you loss, Major,” Duggan said. “Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you. Contact me when you reach Semsara.”  
  
The comm clicked out, and Hobbie slowly stood. He met Janson’s gaze. “She’s dead.”  
  
“Who is she?” Janson said gently. “I’ve never heard you talk about her.”  
  
“She jumped ship with the rest of us on the _Rand Ecliptic_ ,” Hobbie said, still absently. “She was reassigned right after the Battle of Yavin. You never met her—you were still in the med center when she left.” He put a hand to his forehead, still trying to process all the information.  
  
“Why don’t you go talk to Wedge about going to Semsara?” Janson suggested. “In fact, I’ll go with you.”  
  
“I can make it to Wedge’s office by myself,” Hobbie said balefully. “I’m not that discombobulated.”  
  
Janson shook his head. “I meant to Semsara.”  
  
“You have a bachelor party planned,” Hobbie said, shaking his head.  
  
Janson put an arm around his friend’s shoulder. “It won’t be much of a bachelor party without the best man there. We’ll push it back. And since we’ll be back in time for the actual wedding, I think Inyri will be just as glad to have me out of her hair.”  
  
Hobbie opened his mouth to argue, but all his energy left him as the realization finally landed on his shoulders.  
  
Jeni was dead.  
  
Looking over at Janson, he nodded. “I think I could use the company.”  
  
*** 

[Sometime before the Battle of Yavin]  
  
 **Rand Ecliptic**  
  
 _”Mmm,” he said sometime later, the sound rumbling through his chest with vibrations that sounded like a satisfied animal. His fingers tangled through her hair. “You drive me crazy.”  
  
She looked up at him, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Good.”  
  
With one swift motion, he pulled her completely on top of him so if she lowered her head, her mouth would be tilted directly over his. “I think you know me better than I know myself.”  
  
She tossed her hair behind her shoulders, helped by his hands. “Derek, no one can know you better than you know yourself. I’m just letting you be yourself.”  
  
“You don’t think I’m being myself?” he said, an amused smile on his face.  
  
“You don’t let your true self out,” she said softly. “No one sees this side of you, Derek. They see your other side.”  
  
“Old dependable Hobbie?” he suggested, propping his head up on an arm.  
  
“No,” Jeni said, mischief in her eyes. Her hair came forward to fall around his face. “No one sees that you care.”_  
  
***  
  
[Semsara. Now.]  
  
Janson managed to arrange flight on a military transport going to one of the orbital defense stations around Semsara so they could take their X-wings with them. Inyri had come and asked if there was anything she could do. Hobbie shook his head and thanked her, but politely declined her offer of help.  
  
The trip from Coruscant to Semsara was nearly twenty-five standard hours. Janson dozed while Hobbie tried to continue the book Duggan’s call had interrupted, but his eyes merely rested on the words without reading them.  
  
He stared out the window into the swirling colors of hyperspace. Around and around and around, they surrounded the ship and he wondered what it would be like to get lost in hyperspace forever and just to wander around until death found him.  
  
His memories kept surfacing, and every one he remembered he held on to as tightly as he could. He hadn’t realized how important they were then. Now, he would give every credit he had to keep them or to remember more.  
  
He reached up, turning off the light over his seat. Only a few other lights in the transport indicated other personnel were still awake. Closing his eyes, he hoped he wouldn’t dream.  
  
 _“Derek?” the voice called. “Derek?”  
  
He turned around to see Jeni standing there, dressed in her Rebellion mechanic uniform. “Jeni,” he breathed.  
  
There were tears in her eyes. He’d never seen her cry before. “Jeni?”  
  
“I didn’t do it, Derek,” she said. “I didn’t do it!”  
  
“Do what?” he said, trying to smile at her, putting his hands on her upper arms. “Are you in trouble again?”  
  
“You can’t rescue me this time,” she said defiantly. “I’m dead, Derek.”  
  
“Never,” he said fiercely. “You aren’t dead!”  
  
She stepped back. “I’m dead. But it wasn’t me, Derek. It wasn’t me.”  
  
He cast about looking for her. “Jeni? Jeni!”_  
  
The datapad clattering out of his lap and into the floor startled him awake. Taking a moment to reorient himself, he leaned over and picked it up.  
  
“You okay?” Janson said without opening his eyes.  
  
“Just a dream,” Hobbie answered quietly. He looked back out the window and decided that staring into the dizzying vista of hyperspace was preferable to sleeping.  
  
***  
  
They landed their X-wings on Semsara on the landing field for the Public Safety vehicles. The cold air buffeted Hobbie in the face as he raised the canopy of his fighter. Neither he nor Janson had bothered with the standard orange jumpsuit for such a short flight, but even their New Republic military uniforms, when contrasted with the dark black of the Semsara Public Safety men and women running around, stood out.  
  
Hobbie shrugged into his jacket and Janson did the same. They did much to allow the two to blend in, with the exception of the bright Rogue Squadron patch on the arms and the combat patches that had long since overrun the fronts and spilled over to the backs. Hobbie had thought more than once about getting a new one, simply so he didn’t get mobbed with requests for stories in tapcafés or for autographs or advice on how to become an X-wing pilot.  
  
Their sidearms were checked at the entrance, and Hobbie nodded politely to the Twi’lek secretary. “I’m here to see a Lieutenant Duggan?”  
  
“Name?” the woman said, without looking up.  
  
“Derek Klivian and Wes Janson,” he replied. He saw the woman’s head suddenly jerk up, and her lekku began twitching erratically.  
  
“Of course,” she said. “Right down this hallway. Take a left at the junction, and then another left. You’ll see his office.”  
  
Nodding politely, Hobbie followed her instructions, and Wes, with a testament to his changed nature since Inyri Forge had claimed him, didn’t give her a passing glance as they passed through the door into a corridor full of holos and commendations for various personnel in the Public Safety department.  
  
Duggan was sitting at his desk when Hobbie’s knock against the glass alerted him to their presence. “Come in!” he said, rising. “Major Klivian, Major Janson. Welcome to Semsara. I’m sorry it’s taken such an event to bring you to our world. Can I get you anything?”  
  
Hobbie shook his head, keeping his face frozen into his customary mournful expression. “That’s all right, Lieutenant. If you don’t mind, can we just get on to business?”  
  
Duggan nodded, tightening his mouth into the regretful expression he’d no doubt used in situations like this many times before—he was sorry for Hobbie’s loss, but it was simply another case to him, because without his detachment, he could go crazy. Leading them further into the building, he kept up a level of talk meant to distract someone, but Hobbie suspected that Duggan’s conversation was more to make himself comfortable than the two military men following him.  
  
“I assure you, Major, Miss Rutard’s body has been treated with the utmost respect. Our morgue is completely staffed and trained to handle any situation. We service the entire city, so our equipment is open to everyone. We keep bodies in stasis until time for the funeral. Here we are.” Duggan pressed his palm to the reader, and the door to the morgue opened, leading them into an antechamber. The two-way mirror showed the way into the morgue, where a body covered with a white sheet could be seen. “The remains are already set out for your identification, Major,” he said quietly.  
  
Hobbie nodded, staring at the door he was supposed to walk through. Janson raised his eyebrows. “Want me to go with you?” he said in a low voice.  
  
Shaking his head, Hobbie glanced over towards his friend. “I think this is something I better do myself, Wes.” And with that, he walked through the door.  
  
The air was chilly, but not uncomfortably so, and the smell of sanitizer and disinfectant burned the nostrils as he stepped into the room, the sound of his boots hitting the tile echoing around. The sickeningly bright yellow of the tiles made everything else dark in contrast, except for the white sheet lying over the body in the middle of the room.  
  
His boots still echoing against the tile, he approached the table. Reaching a hand out, he had to force himself to not shake as he pulled the sheet away from the face of the body.  
  
The shock hit him hard enough that he took a step back, feeling the wind knocked from him as surely as someone had taken their fist and driven it into his gut. The face there was the face he knew. It was older, just as his own was, with a few wrinkles. She was still dressed in her mechanics uniform, as if she’d just come from work, her sleeves rolled up high.  
  
He didn’t want to look, but he had to. The entry and exit wounds on her skull were matted with blood, and he felt sick, trying to imagine what would have caused Jeni to do this to herself.  
  
He stared at his boots for a moment, before looking back up. He’d pulled the sheet down further than he’d intended, revealing her hands, stretched out by her side. Her slender wrist that he’d touched once—that he’d kissed once—was bruised.  
  
His stomach still threatening to spill its contents, he very gently turned her hand over in his. The bruises continued onto the other side of her wrist. In fact, if he held her wrist just so—his fingers almost would match the bruises.  
  
Spreading the sheet back over her, Hobbie sanitized his hands at the provided station before returning to the room. Duggan looked appropriately somber, Janson concerned.  
  
“How did your medical examiner explain the bruises on her wrist?” Hobbie asked bluntly.  
  
“Bruises?” Duggan said. “I’m sorry, there’s no bruises in my report, Major.”  
  
“Take a closer look at the body,” Hobbie said. “There’s a bruise on her right wrist. The blast went in on her right side.”  
  
“I’ll make a note of it,” Duggan said, “but, Major, the both the assistant medical examiner and his supervisor have signed off on this report. Our case is closed, and it has been ruled a suicide.”  
  
“Where’s the weapon?” Hobbie asked.  
  
“It’s being held in our evidence safe until we can finish the paperwork. It’ll be sold at auction,” Duggan said. “There was nothing suspicious about it, Major. It belonged to Ms. Rutard. The silencer on the blaster was a standard one that could have been picked up at any store. She didn’t want anyone to know what she was doing.”  
  
Hobbie persisted. “There was no note, or anything? No indications that Jeni would have been suicidal?”  
  
“Hobbs,” Janson said, his eyebrows furrowed, but he had nothing to say.  
  
“Major,” Duggan said patiently, “I assure you, Semsara’s Public Safety department is top-notch. We’ve ruled it a suicide. Please, Major, let’s get our paperwork finished so we can put that poor girl to rest.”  
  
“I’m not doing anything of the sort,” Hobbie said, feeling the anger well up from underneath him. It was threatening to overflow, and only with the control practiced by fighter pilots was he able to keep it from doing so. “I’m not satisfied with your investigation, Lieutenant.”  
  
“Major, I’m sorry, but this is the only investigation that’s going to be done,” Duggan said.  
  
“Like hell it is,” Hobbie said. He turned his back on the man, leaving the room. For others, the corridors would have been a maze, but he walked straight on.  
  
“Hobbie,” Janson said, jogging up behind him. He had to continue the pace to keep up with his friend. “What are you doing?”  
  
“Going back to my X-wing,” Hobbie said. “I’ve got a call to make.”  
  
Janson’s hand grabbed Hobbie’s upper arm, yanking him around. “Hobbs, who are you going to call? Who is going to be able to make this better for you?”  
  
The deadly look in Hobbie’s eyes made Janson let go of him. “Cracken.”  
  
***

[Sometime before the Battle of Yavin]  
  
 **Rand Ecliptic**  
  
 _He climbed out of the TIE fighter, and pulled his helmet off, running a hand through his hair. Setting his helmet down next to the wing panel, he looked around for the crew chief. “Chief!” he hollered. “Chief!”  
  
Jeni appeared out of the engines of another fighter. “What?”  
  
He walked over to the other fighter, stripping his gloves off his hands. “My starboard engine is acting up.”  
  
“What’s wrong with it?” she asked, wiping her hands on a rag as she stood.  
  
He jerked his head and she followed him over to the fighter, moving behind it to look at the engines. The warmth barely bleeding off from his short flight through the atmosphere of the landing bay affronted them as they moved out of sight of the rest of the deck crew behind one of the solar panels.  
  
With one swift movement, he had her pinned up against the solar panel, one hand on each side of her head, his mouth covering hers. She breathlessly pushed him away. “Nothing wrong with your engine, is there, Derek?”  
  
“Not a thing,” he said with a grin. “If anyone asks, there might have been a rattle, but I think you solved it.”  
  
“So what caused this sudden spontaneous outburst of affection?” she asked.  
  
He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet a bit. “Damn near clipped a shuttle that was coming out of space dock. Still up on the adrenaline. Needed a way to come down easily.”  
  
“So you thought having your wicked way with me in the landing bay would do it?” she said, crossing her arms across her chest.  
  
His grin grew even wider. “It’s public.”  
  
“Only to someone flying in from outside,” she said, pointing out towards the open space doors that showed the ship-building station outside. “Which would be Biggs, whenever he feels like coming in.”  
  
“He won’t tell,” he said, leaning forward for another kiss.  
  
The sound of footsteps barely gave Jeni enough time to shove him away before the executive officer came marching around the corner, his steps precisely measured. He was every inch the proper Imperial, and Derek and Jeni both stood at attention. “Sir.”  
  
“Lieutenant Klivian. You have not reported in yet,” the other man said.  
  
“Yes, sir,” Derek answered. “I was explaining to the chief here that I believe there’s a rattle in my starboard engine.”  
  
“Perhaps that explains the complaint we just received from the civilian ship heading out of the system,” the officer said. “Please finish and report to my office. Lieutenant.” He looked down his nose at Jeni. “Chief.”  
  
He was out of sight and out of earshot before they spoke again. “Kriffing piece of sithspit,” Jeni muttered. “Now I’ll actually have to take the engine apart.”  
  
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Derek said helpfully. “It can’t take long.”  
  
She glared at him. “No, but in taking it apart, you risk something getting inside that shouldn’t be there. Thanks a lot, hot shot. You and your sneaking around have created more work for me.”  
  
“Actually, you created more work for yourself,” he countered.  
  
She put a hand on her hip and fixed him with one of the stares her deck crew hated to find themselves on the receiving end of. “Oh, yes? And just exactly how did that happen?”  
  
“You,” he said, backing her up against the fighter once more, “were in my head when I was flying, which caused me to nearly clip that shuttle, which just made things go downhill from there.” He leaned in for another kiss.  
  
She put her hand against his lips, and instead of her mouth, he found engine oil, and a look that clued him into the fact that she was through messing around with him. “Derek. Enough sneaking around. Get off my deck.”  
  
***_

[Semsara.  Now.]

  
It wasn’t enough that Janson was opposed to the entire idea, but when Hobbie managed to get the Coruscant military operator to finally put him through to Cracken’s home, Pash too, tried to discourage him.  
  
“Hobbs,” his friend said, “I don’t know what it is you need from my father, but if I can get it for you, let me help. Please. I know what it’s like to be in debt to my father, and that’s no place to be.”  
  
“Pash,” Hobbie said for the third time, “I understand that you want to help, but you can’t. I need to talk to your father.”  
  
Pash’s lips tightened into a grim line. “I hope that whatever you need is worth it.”  
  
“It is,” Hobbie said. “But I’m short on time, Pash.”  
  
Two minutes later, Airen Cracken was sitting before the comm unit. “Major Klivian. Pash tells me you have a matter to discuss with me of some urgency. Since you’re calling my home at this hour, I’d assume this is so.”  
  
“I need you to provide me with NRI jurisdiction for myself and Major Janson for Semsara and the surrounding system,” Hobbie said without preamble.  
  
The skin around Cracken’s eyes barely even twitched. “I’ll need to know what for before I start dealing out Intelligence passes and powers, Major.”  
  
“I’m investigating a murder, General,” Hobbie answered. “The local law enforcement aren’t doing a stellar job, nor are they being forthcoming with information. I’m not satisfied.”  
  
“You can hardly take on every homicide case that’s been mishandled in the sector, Major,” Cracken said, leaning forward towards the screen, his chin resting in his hand as he thought. The fingers covering his mouth kept Hobbie from hearing a word Cracken mumbled to himself.  
  
“I can take on this one, General,” Hobbie said. “It’s personal.”  
  
“It always is,” Cracken said, leaning back.  
  
“She was a member of the New Republic military,” Hobbie said. “She was in the Rebellion and she was in the military. I thought we didn’t leave people behind.”  
  
“If I give you this, Klivian,” Cracken said, “you understand that you will be in my debt. You and Janson both.”  
  
“Not Janson,” Hobbie said angrily. “Janson came along to help me out, and he’s not asking for this. I don’t care what I end up having to do for you, but he’s getting ready to get married, and I’m not about to put him in the middle of your games.”  
  
”And it’s still personal indeed,” Cracken mused quietly. “Very well. I’ll send along your approvals right away. They should be there by the time you return to the public safety office. And Major, don’t make me regret this decision.”  
  
“You won’t,” Hobbie said. “Thank you, General.”  
  
“Believe me, Major, you’ll be paying for it one day. Go solve your murder,” Cracken said. The screen turned black.  
  
Hobbie turned around. “I appreciate you not putting me in Cracken’s debt,” Janson said slowly, “but are you sure you couldn’t have accomplished this with a call to Iella, or gotten someone else to handle this for you? We’ve known Han Solo for a long time. He’s got to have some pull still left.”  
  
“It would take too much time for Han to wring it out of anyone,” Hobbie said, pulling his jacket back on, “and Iella doesn’t have the power to give us what we need. I’m willing to make the trade-off. I just didn’t want you to have to do it too.”  
  
Janson shook his head as he followed his friend from the comm center. “I’m glad I didn’t have to.”  
  
They arrived back at the public safety office and Hobbie swiped his military id at the reader at the door without speaking to the receptionist.  
  
The message popped up immediately. _Recognized: Major Derek Klivian. New Republic Starfighter Command. Rogue Squadron. New Republic Intelligence. Sector Agent, Level 2. Licensed to arrest suspects. Licensed to carry concealed weaponry. Licensed to kill._  
  
Janson swiped his card and the same message popped up. “Level 2?” he said under his breath. “Isn’t that what Iella is?”  
  
“Looks like the general’s wife is somewhat more deadly than we thought,” Hobbie said. Swiping his card at the entrance again, the door opened, admitting him and Janson.  
  
Hobbie’s insistent knock made Duggan raise his head from his work. “Lieutenant. I’ll assume you’ve already received our papers.”  
  
“You have connections that work fast,” Duggan said, pulling a copy of the message from the desk. “Straight from the head of New Republic Intelligence. How did you get this? Who did you bribe?”  
  
Hobbie leaned over his desk, Janson not even bothering to restrain him. “I’m in Rogue Squadron, Sithspawn. If it wasn’t for us, you’d still be sweating under the thumb of the Empire with stormtroopers patrolling through these corridors. I don’t have to bribe people. They do me favors.”  
  
He took a deep breath and backed up. “Now. We’re actually doing you a favor. We’re lightening your case load and taking over Jeni Rutard’s case. So you can hand over all the material you’ve collected, and we’ll be on the way.”  
  
“All the evidence is in the evidence room,” Duggan said, his voice tight, knowing he’d been beaten. He rose, pulling a datacard from the desk. “Here’s everything we have. It’s not much. We’d judged it a suicide.”  
  
“Yes,” Hobbie said, taking the datacard. “We know. Thank you for your cooperation, Lieutenant.”  
  
Janson took the datacard from him as they left. “You want to take a look at this?”  
  
“Not yet,” Hobbie said. “Got the keys to the landspeeder?”  
  
Janson tossed them to him. “Here. Where are we going?”  
  
“Get a datapad and plug that card in. We’re going to her house,” Hobbie said. “That’s where they found her, and that’s where we’re starting.”  
  
***

[Sometime before the Battle of Yavin]  
  
 **Bestine**  
  
 _”So this is your place?” she said, her eyes looking around appreciatively. “It’s nice. I like it.”  
  
He glanced around his tiny apartment. “It’s not much, but it’s home. And it’s someplace to come back to when I can’t get to Ralltiir.” He pointed across the room. “That’s a picture of my folks right there.”  
  
She moved over to the makeshift shelf he’d put up with a few crates that were serving to hold books, and picked up the holo. “You take after your father, Derek.”  
  
He looked over her shoulder. “Yeah. It’s the long face,” he said, stroking his chin and smiling. “Where do you live when you’re off-ship?”  
  
“Oh, no place near this nice,” she said, stretching her arms over her head. “Can’t afford it on a mechanic’s salary. I live with three other gals in a flat about half this size in Trinsron.”  
  
He raised his eyebrows. “Trinsron. That’s not exactly a safe place to be living, Jeni.”  
  
“Can’t afford anything better,” she said. “Besides, we’re careful. We carry stunners between here and home, and one of the girls works in Trinsron. She’s used to it. We know who to stay away from, and which streets are the worst. Besides, I stay on the ship as much as possible.”  
  
“You’re always welcome to stay here,” he said hesitantly. “I can give you a keycode. I keep it clean in here, I promise. And there’s an empty drawer in my dresser that you could keep stuff in—“  
  
“Derek Klivian,” she said, her voice sultry as she pushed him back onto the ancient sofa. “Are you offering me a drawer?”  
  
“Um—yeah,” he said. “I mean, it’s not much. It’s just a drawer.”  
  
“It’s a drawer, Derek,” she said. “But it’s so much more. It’s a bit into your life. A symbolic bit, because once we leave, we aren’t ever going to be able to come back here, but it’s a symbol.”  
  
“Of what?” he asked, somewhat amused as she climbed into his lap and settled herself there to look at him.  
  
“Of a little piece of yourself that you just gave to me,” she said. “It’s very sweet.”  
  
“Oh,” he said. “Am I going to get anything in return?”  
  
She raised an eyebrow. “Other than smelly girl stuff in your underwear drawer?”  
  
“Other than that, yes.”  
  
“Someday, I will share a drawer with you."  
_  
[Semsara. Now.]  
  
They were hardly in the nice section of town. It wasn’t nearly as bad as some places that Jeni had lived in the past, Hobbie knew—for that matter, it wasn’t nearly as bad as some places he had lived. The apartment he and Biggs had shared when they were finishing their tour at the Academy, for example, had been in a neighborhood of Coruscant that few dared to travel in those days. The two of them had been the only humans living in the building, and the fact that they were going to be future Imperials didn’t necessarily endear them to the inhabitants. They’d soon learned not to keep any valuables around, and Biggs had commented that it was designed to enforce the anti-alien sentiment in Imperial officers.  
  
Janson rang the bell with no small enthusiasm to the small apartment complex, and they waited in the cold air for the door to open. The sky was beginning to spit snow, and the wind blew it directly into their faces.  
  
The ancient door opened, and the face of an old woman appeared. “Can I help you?”  
  
“Yes, ma’am,” Hobbie said. “I’m Major Klivian from New Republic Intelligence. This is Major Janson. We’re here about Jeni Rutard.”  
  
“Oh!” The old woman said. “Come in, boys, come in! Just wipe your feet on the mat there, and come in.”  
  
They did as they were told, wiping their boots off on a mat that had probably existed since the Clone Wars, and the old woman led them into a parlor off the foyer. “Do come in. This complex belongs to me, you see, and this bottom section is mine. I don’t get up stairs real well anymore, so the top five floors are all apartments. Do sit down and let me get you some caf. Now, who are you boys from again? The police have already been here.”  
  
Hobbie and Janson sat on an ancient hoversofa upholstered in a revolting shade of pink that looked like it would fall to the ground given the slightest provocation, somewhat intimidated by the presence of the grandmotherly figure. “We’re members of Rogue Squadron, ma’am,” Janson said. “But we’re working with New Republic Intelligence on this case.”  
  
“Well, good,” the woman said. “I’m Dori Sage, by the way. I’m glad that someone came back. I don’t believe that Jeni killed herself, not in a million years.” She shook her head, setting the caf down in front of them. “I don’t like to think that someone got in here, or that someone living here did that to her, but the fact remains that they did. But there’s no way that Jeni did it. Didn’t they find a silencer on that blaster? And on one side of her, there’s no one living there, and on the other side, isn’t there a deaf Ithorian?”  
  
Hobbie exchanged a glance with Janson. Obviously, this woman had more information than anyone had bothered to check up on. “Ma’am, did Jeni have any enemies? Did she not get along with anyone?”  
  
“No, not that I know of,” Dori said. “Jeni was always a real good girl. She would go upstairs and fix the heater for me, and she wouldn’t charge me a single credit for it. She would fix things all around the apartments for me, and for the residents, and never charge anyone. She just did it, and after working at the shop all day too. I’d think she’d get tired of being up to her elbows in wires and mechanical parts, but she seemed to like it.”  
  
“Was she seeing anyone?” Hobbie asked, his voice entirely even as Janson took a sip from his caf. Hobbie had already abandoned it himself, the caf little more than water.  
  
“She was seeing some fancy pants from uptown,” Dori said. “He’s off planet at the moment. He hasn’t come back yet, that—“ she calmed herself down. “Well, I shouldn’t say such things in front of gentlemen.”  
  
“Well, he may not know,” Hobbie said carefully. “Part of the reason I’ve taken on this case, ma’am is because I was Jeni’s emergency contact. She and I have been friends for a long time, since we were both in the Rebellion.”  
  
“Oh!” Dori clapped her hands together. “Jeni would talk about that sometimes. She never did very often.” Her face broke out into a smile and dimples appeared in her rosy cheeks. “Are you the young man she used to talk about sometimes? Are you—oh, now who was it? David? Drake? Derek?”  
  
“Derek,” Hobbie said. “Yes, that’s me. Derek Klivian.”  
  
“And you’re in Rogue Squadron.” Dori tsked. “Oh, you poor dear.” She reached forward to pat his knee. “She told me the whole story.”  
  
“Yes, it’s a long and sordid tale,” Hobbie said, setting the mug of caf he’d held on to down onto a coaster. The small smile on his face was an ugly, self-deprecating one, and he glanced down at the carpeting, just a shade off matching the pink on the hoversofa. “Could we see her apartment, ma’am?”  
  
“Of course you can. She lives on the third floor, the second apartment from the staircase. I’ll get you the code for it. It’s been changed ever since it happened, you know, just in case someone did know how to get in. They didn’t want anyone messing with evidence," Dori said, scooping up the caf mugs. “Hold on just a second, dearies.” She looked back over her shoulder before she headed into the kitchen. “Derek!”  
  
Hobbie closed his eyes as the twittering old woman disappeared, and Janson turned to look at him. “A long and sordid tale, huh?”  
  
“We didn’t have the time to tell stories like this back then,” Hobbie said. “And I didn’t want to tell it anyway.”  
  
“How long and how sordid did it get?” Janson asked quietly.  
  
“Not quite as long and sordid as you and Inyri, but almost,” Hobbie said. He turned his head. “I almost married this girl.”  
  
Janson rubbed his eyes with his hands. “I need to call Inyri. When we pass a comm center, let’s stop so I can run in and send her a message.”  
  
“You didn’t when I called Cracken?” Hobbie asked.  
  
“No,” Janson said. “I was too busy making sure you didn’t do something too terribly stupid. Like get the two of us transferred to Intelligence permanently right before my wedding.”  
  
“Wedding?” Dori perked up, coming out of the kitchen, handing the code to Hobbie. “Oh, are you getting married?”  
  
“I am,” Janson spoke up. He took a moment to explain as Hobbie looked up the stairs. The dark wood was almost shining in the lights, and Hobbie took a few steps upstairs, looking at the walls while Janson tried to extricate himself from Dori’s grasp, finally placating her with a brief look at a holo of Inyri before running up the stairs. Blowing out his breath in relief, he glanced at Hobbie. “Come on.”  
  
Stifling a chuckle, despite the reason they were there, Hobbie continued up the stairs until he reached the door. The security mechanism on the door was a simple one, and if the code wasn’t all that complex, it didn’t hurt that Janson said he’d caught sight of a blaster rifle sitting over the refrigeration unit in the kitchen that he guessed belonged to Dori.  
  
The apartment smelled like stale air and engine oil and a scent Hobbie recognized as the perfume Jeni had worn as long as he’d known her. Marked out on the floor was an outline of a body, and he pulled his eyes from it to look around.  
  
It was decorated much the same as the rest of the complex, transparisteel foundations covered with the wood paneling. Touches of personal effects were scattered around. Jeni’s toolbox was dropped by the door with a pair of scuffed boots, and a coat and scarf were hanging on hooks by the door.  
  
Hobbie stepped in, his footstep falling eerily silent as he walked in. The tightening pressure in his chest made him want to turn around and run back outside, all the way back outside, back to the Public Safety office where he could shake Duggan into doing this properly, and then climb back into his X-wing and head for Coruscant for the warm fluorescent lights of squadron headquarters.  
  
Shaking his head, Hobbie walked into the tiny apartment further. Janson stood at the door in quiet reverence waiting, taking in the scene.  
  
His heart in his throat, Hobbie walked to Jeni’s dresser. The top was covered with items, a brush, lotion, other feminine knick-knacks interspersed with a few tools that had just been laid there in her haphazard fashion. Taking a finger, he hooked it under the pull of the drawer and opened it.  
  
Mostly, the top drawer held a collection of sensible looking underthings, with a lacy one or two set to the side. A few boxes to the side sat by them, and a dark blue one he pulled out and opened.  
  
The sag in his shoulders was apparent from across the room. “Hobbie?” Janson said softly.  
  
“Wes?” Hobbie’s voice caught in his throat, as he snapped the box closed. “I—I don’t—I can’t—“ The box dropped back into the dresser drawer from nerveless fingers. “Oh, stars.”  
  
Janson’s arms suddenly supported him as the overwhelming grief slammed down on his shoulders with the weight of a Super Star Destroyer. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”  
  
***

[Sometime before the Battle of Yavin]  
  
Rand Ecliptic  
  
 _“Why not?” he asked, throwing up his hands in frustration.  
  
“This is my job, Derek,” she shot back. “I’m not going to up and leave it.”  
  
“Who was asking you to?” he demanded.  
  
“It just sounded like you were!”  
  
“I’m not!” he said, putting both hands on top of his head and trying to keep from pulling his hair out in frustration. He lowered his voice. “Once we get out of here, we’re not going to have to worry about leaving our positions or anything like that.”  
  
“You don’t know that,” she hissed. “You honestly can’t tell me that the Rebellion works that way, because you don’t know, Derek. No one really does. Besides, you think the Rebellion can afford to keep us together? They’re going to do whatever they have to do to win, Derek, and they can’t afford to consider personal relationships.”  
  
“As opposed to here?” he demanded. “Where it hangs over our head every day, because some paper pusher could just simply decide that one or the other of us needs moved—mostly likely you, moving you down into a more denigrating position. Do you really want that to happen, Jeni? At least the Rebellion will take you seriously.”  
  
“What I want is something certain,” Jeni said, sagging down onto the bunk. “Derek, the _ Ecliptic _is getting ready to ship out any day now, and for all we know, I could be ordered to stay here at the shipyards. I want something sure, Derek. Maybe I’m asking for too much, but I want to know that one thing in my life is going to remain constant, and if there’s one thing in my life that I want to remain constant, it’s you.”  
  
He watched her for a moment sitting there on the edge of Biggs’ bunk, her fall of glossy hair over her shoulder, fingers steepled together in stress. Without a word, he walked over to the wall and depressed the button that opened one of the drawers that belonged to him. The small blue box fit in his hand, and he took a breath before turning around and handing it to her.  
  
Her gaze met his in surprise. “Derek—“  
  
“Open it,” he said softly.  
  
Her fingers were trembling, he thought, as she opened the box to reveal the ring, embellished with the patterns that were traditional for Ralltiir. It was an exact replica of the one his grandmother had worn years ago, the one she had sold during the Clone Wars to feed her family. The pattern and the story of her surviving through adversity had always entranced him, and he’d had it specially made down on Bestine. “Derek,” she said, her voice choked, “are you asking me to marry you?”  
  
He glanced down at his boots. “Yes. I am.”_  
  
***  
  
He laid on the uncomfortable hotel bed as night fell on Semsara. Snow was continuing to fall softly outside, and he couldn’t do anything but stare at the ceiling. Wes thought he was still asleep, because he’d flopped down here and passed out when he’d been dragged here by his friend, and he could hear Wes’ voice in a soft tone speaking to Inyri over the comm.  
  
“I’m worried,” he heard Wes say. “I’ve never seen him like this, Inyri. I’m afraid he could be suicidal.”  
  
He couldn’t hear Inyri’s response, just the higher-pitched voice, made slightly computerized by the comm. Wes’ rejoinder was too low for him to hear, and then his tone switched to an intimate one intended most certainly for Inyri’s ears alone.  
  
It nearly made him sick, hearing Wes’ tone. He rolled over on the bed, turning his back to his friend, trying to block it out of his head, but he couldn’t, and his stomach turned until he bolted up from the bed and into the refresher.  
  
Wes’ voice hurriedly cut off the conversation, and his friend’s shadow suddenly blocked the light streaming into the refresher. “Hobbie?”  
  
“Something I ate,” he choked out.  
  
“Not likely,” Wes said, his voice just a shade shy of being stern. “You haven’t had anything to eat.”  
  
Hobbie wiped his mouth off with a towel and faced his friend. “I can’t eat.”  
  
Wes slapped the lights in the refresher on. “Take a good look at yourself in the mirror. In the last twenty-four hours, you’ve suddenly taken on the look of a madman, Hobbie. I know you want to catch whoever did this, but you are destroying yourself from the inside.”  
  
Hobbie glanced at himself. His skin was deathly pale, and his red-rimmed eyes stood out with the contrast only those with haunted souls had. “I can’t, Wes. I have to—damn it all. Damn it all!”  
  
Hobbie found himself slammed up against the wall by his friend, the edge of the door coming into painful contact with his spine. “I’m not going to let you tear yourself apart over this, Hobbie! That’s not what friends do! You’ve kept me alive in times when I wanted to die, so for Force’s sake, let me do the same for you! But I can’t do that if you won’t tell me what the hell happened, and why you are so hell bent on doing this!”  
  
“Wouldn’t you do the same if it were Inyri?” Hobbie yelled back at him. “That’s what she was to me, Wes! But she ran from me!” The words spilled out, reopening the wound that had slowly been being forced open by every minute they’d spend on Semsara. “When it came down to it, she ran. Because for some Sith-forsaken reason, she decided that being married to me would be too hard for her, and she ran from me, Wes! But I never stopped loving her, and she’s run from me again! She’s gone, and I can’t follow her this time.”  
  
He bent over double, the pain in his chest nearly driving him to his knees. “Oh, stars,” he whispered to himself. He ran through every curse word he knew and some he didn’t in a hushed tone of voice, hoping to relieve the horrible feeling. The iron band around his chest didn’t ease, and he stumbled out of the refresher back into the room.  
  
“You need to go back to Coruscant,” Wes said quietly from the doorway. “Finding the person who killed Jeni isn’t going to do any good for you, Hobbie, because this is killing you.”  
  
Hobbie closed his eyes, unable to cope with that thought at the moment. “I have to do this for her, Wes. I have to know why. I never knew why. She never would tell me, but this—I have to know why.”  
  
Wes spoke slowly. “Hobbie, maybe she wasn’t murdered.”  
  
He shot up off the bed, glaring at Wes. “What do you mean?”  
  
Wes stared at him unflinchingly. “I’ve been looking over the files we got from Duggan. Hobbie, everything she had was in order. All her banking, all her bills, everything was paid up. She even handed in her resignation at her job the day she died. Her pets were fed, and even her refrigeration unit was cleaned out of leftovers. All she didn’t leave was a note to explain why.”  
  
“She never explained why,” Hobbie whispered. “She said she didn’t feel like it, so she didn’t have to.”  
  
“I took a look at the security in the apartment building,” Wes said. “It’s not something a normal person could get past. And the autopsy reports match up, and so does every other detail except the marks on her wrist that you noticed. And those could have come from anywhere, Hobbie. Anywhere.” Hobbie watched Wes’ face grow stony. “You’re becoming delusional, Hobbie.”  
  
Without a word, Hobbie laid down and turned his back to his friend, escaping reality into the darkness of unconscious sleep.  
  
***  
  
He woke up the next morning, his eyes looking out the window to see the snow resting on the ground outside. The pristine landscape of Semsara was almost unworldly, and the empty feeling in his chest wasn’t quite so painful, but just empty.  
  
He got up out of the bed, and found Wes sitting there, looking sleepy as he drank a long swig of caf. His friend didn’t say anything, just looked at him, and Hobbie took a moment to get enough moisture back in his mouth to speak. “Go home, Wes,” he said softly.  
  
“Not going to leave you here,” Wes returned.  
  
“I’m not going to keep on,” Hobbie said. “But you’ve got someone waiting for you back at Coruscant, and I—I’ve got to take care of things here.”  
  
“What kind of things?”  
  
Hobbie closed his eyes. “I need to take all that stuff back to Duggan. Make the funeral arrangements. Those types of things.”  
  
Silence reigned for a moment. “I’m sorry,” Wes said, finally. “I really am. I’ll stay here and help you get things wrapped up—“  
  
“You’ve got to go get married,” Hobbie stated. He looked at his friend. “I’ll be back in time for the wedding, but I think I’m going to miss your bachelor party.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “I can do this on my own, Wes. I’ve got to.”  
  
Wes nodded, and Hobbie knew that his friend was just that relieved anyway. Wes had too many other things on his mind at the moment to deal with him—Hobbie had no illusions about that and knew that Inyri had long since replaced him as Wes’ best friend. “Go home, Wes,” Hobbie said again. “And I’ll be along.”  

*** 

[Sometime before the Battle of Endor]  
  
 **Sullust**  
  
 _The fleet was coming together, and he had one thing on his mind as he escaped the clamor of the squadron headquarters and the briefings. He would be able to find her now, for the first time since she’d requested the transfer before Hoth, and he had every intention of finding out why she’d run from him.  
  
The ship was huge, but he found his way down into the belly to the crew quarters and rang the annunciator to the door, waiting for someone to answer. The door slid open before him, and there she stood, surprise etched across her features. It quickly faded and gave way to resignation. “I should have known you’d have come.”  
  
“I don’t give up that easily,” he said. “The only reason it took me this long was because there were other things to consider. Like Imperials breathing down our necks.”  
  
“I suppose I should be flattered that the great Hobbie Klivian chased after me,” she said bitterly. “I’ve heard tales of your exploits with women lately.”  
  
“Over-exaggerated,” he said, although not saying if they were outright false. “You can attribute that to Wes Janson.”  
  
She turned around, allowing him entry into the room. A yank of her dresser drawer later, and she had a blue box in her hand. “Here. I suppose you want this back.”  
  
He blinked at her in astonishment for a moment. “Is that what you think I came here for?”  
  
Her eyes were hard. “Take the ring back, Derek.”  
  
“I didn’t come back here for the ring,” he said. “I came back here for you.” He stepped closer, his eyes blazing. “Damn it, woman, you are going to tell me why you walked out on me like you did, because I at least deserve an explanation.”  
  
“Yes,” she said. “you deserve one, but I’m not going to give you one. Because I don’t have to.”  
  
“Why not?” he said.  
  
She turned and put the box back in her dresser with somewhat reverent care. “Because you love me enough not to make me.”_  
  
***  
  
Hobbie stood there, watching his best friend beam as he declared his undying love for the woman standing in front of him. Inyri’s face was rosy and her voice was soft as she did the same, and somewhere deep inside, Hobbie knew that he was truly happy for them. It was just going to take a while to dig it all out.  
  
Gavin Darklighter slapped a hand on his shoulder at the reception. “It was no true bachelor party without you there, Hobbs. Sorry you couldn’t make it.”  
  
Hobbie shrugged, attempting not to spill the mug of lomin ale he had in his hand as he did so. “Things happen, you know.” His typical long face, which he had so hated when he was a teen, was finally coming in handy, because most of his squadron mates, even though they could tell something was up, were contributing it to the fact that he’d just served as best man at his best friend’s wedding.  
  
He set the lomin ale down in front of Wes, only to find that his own mug had already disappeared—or had done a rather astonishing maneuver right in front of Wes’ place setting. Making an annoyed face, he sat the lomin ale he’d meant to retrieve for the groom in front of himself instead. Inyri was excitedly chatting to Rhysati, something about the sleek wedding dress she was wearing.  
  
Wes was grinning from ear to ear, and Hobbie leaned over. “Married life suits you.”  
  
His friend turned to him, running his hand through his hair and mussing it up. Inyri almost automatically smoothed it back down without ceasing her conversation with Rhysati. “I’m liking it so far. I’m going to like it better once we get out of this reception.” His grin grew that much more wicked.  
  
Hobbie gave him a lop-sided smile. “Listen, I’m going to get out of here. I’ve fulfilled my duties as best man, including the toast.”  
  
Wes stood as Hobbie did, taking his hand and shaking it enthusiastically before enfolding his friend in a hug. “Thanks for being here. It means a lot.”  
  
“Hey, and here,” Hobbie said, pushing a blue box into his friend’s hand. “Give this to your wife from yourself some day.”  
  
Wes opened it up to find the ring that Hobbie had once meant for Jeni once. He looked at it for a moment, and closed the box and handed it back to Hobbie, closing his friend’s hand around it. “Save it. You may need it someday.”  
  
Hobbie looked down at the box in his hand and nodded. “Okay.”  
  
Wes patted him on the shoulder, and Hobbie left the rest of his friends behind to celebrate their wedding while he went to finish his mourning.  
  
*** 


End file.
